


Pool Shark

by Allana



Category: Metallica
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:18:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allana/pseuds/Allana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason wiggled his fingers; in his mind’s eye he saw them shattering under the weight of James's heavy boots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pool Shark

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the recording of _The Black Album_

"You know what your problem is, Newdick?" 

James took a noisy gulp from his beer.

Jason gritted his teeth as he lined up his next shot. Tricky one, this. Especially with Het running his mouth in the background, trying to get under his skin.

"I know how to play pool, asshole," he snapped before drawing his arm back and taking his shot. As soon as the cue connected with the white, he knew it was sour; as ever, James had him rattled. Bastard. 

He pushed back up from the table and watched, leaning on his cue, as the three-ball bounced off the cushion by the corner pocket. Shit. He'd jinxed himself. Let the bastard get to him. Again.

"Not pool, asshole." James laughed, then shot him the finger with the hand that was holding his beer, sloshing most of it down his leg. "Shit!" 

He rubbed at the spreading stain as if that would somehow help to do more than make the stain bigger. Jason stared at the wet denim, gulped, and looked away.

"I mean," James continued, "with life an' all that shit." He took another gulp from the bottle. "Always so fucking eager. Bouncing around like a puppy, yapping at everyone. Sometimes you just need to shut up, ya know?"

Jason did know. In fact he was sure that this was one of those times but Het was always big on "do as I say, not as I do".

He pushed his thoughts away. "It's your shot, Het."

"Huh?" 

Jason waved his hand towards the table.

"Oh. Yeah." 

James tottered over to the pool table and eyed the layout of the balls. He bent over for a closer look, body swaying as he tried to work out which shot to take.

Jason couldn't help but notice how the denim stretched over his legs and ass... inviting his gaze. 

And his cock.

 _What would he do if I kissed him,_  Jason wondered.  _Kiss me back, let me shove him up against the wall and rip his clothes off? Maybe he's always had a thing for me, too?_

Nah. 

Realistically, James would punch him down to the floor and kick the shit out of him. Stomp him into the fucking ground. 

Jason wiggled his fingers; in his mind’s eye he saw them shattering under the weight of James's heavy boots. Yeah, that was more like it; he'd be out on his ear before he even came round. 

Best to keep the status quo... but he couldn't stop staring at that ass and wondering.

"The fuck're you staring at, Newkid?" James straightened up and glared at him.

"Nothing." 

He lowered his head and pretended to study his sneakers. The usual ploy. Thank fuck James was too wasted to ride him about it.

James grunted and bent his long frame back over the table, settling back in for his next shot.

Jason peeked up through his eyelashes, and seeing that James was engrossed in his game went back to watching him. His eyes roamed over James's back, noting the ripples his t-shirt made as he stretched, trying to bridge to a long shot. One long, lean leg came up and and after a couple of false starts rested along the edge of the table. 

Oh god. Bent right over the table. How easy it would be to just....

Jason blinked and looked away. Fixed his eyes to the dartboard and the much-abused picture of Kip pinned to it. A clack followed by loud curses drew his attention back to James, and the all but forgotten game.

Strolling over to join James at the table, he smirked as he saw the ball poised on the lip of the pocket. If he just rolled the white down the cushion he could set himself up for the next shot. Yes, focusing on the game. That'd work.

It always had before.

 _Focus._

*~*

  


  
It turned out to be surprisingly easy to hold Het down. An ungodly amount of beer followed by half a bottle of Jager made him... _pliant_. He smirked when James thrashed and tried to get up, hands flexing against the confines of the belt lashed around his wrists.

"Shouldn't have had the Jager, huh?"

James turned his head, hair trapped under Jason's heavy grip. Small snapping noises followed each painful movement until his cheek was pressed against the soft felt and one baleful eye glared up at Jason.

"The fuck're you doing, Newkid?"

"I was thinking earlier--you know, when, you were telling me about _my_  fucking problems--that you need to chill out, try new shit, and stop being such a fucking asshole."

"Yeah? Whatcha gonna do, Jay? Fuck me?" He laughed, derision colouring his voice.

"Maybe."

"You couldn't fuck me with someone else's dick, Newfag. You don't have the  _balls_."

Jason gave a nasty laugh that sent chills running down his own spine, tightened his grip on James's neck and banged his head against the table. The resulting thump was quite satisfying.

Sliding one hand between James and the table, Jason ran his hand over James's crotch. James jerked and tried to pull away from his questing hand, but too late; Jason's hand brushed over straining denim, paused, then returned to rub and squeeze James's growing errection. His own cock throbbed in time with James's. 

"I'm fucking straight, man!"

"Yeah?" Jason popped the button on James's jeans, shoved his hand inside and grabbed James's hard cock. "This says otherwise."

He let go, pulled his hand out and awkwardly dragged James's pants down to his knees--fuck, did he shrink-fit the damn jeans?--spreading his other hand over James's lower back and pressing him back down onto the table when he tried to make a bid for freedom.

Fuck yeah! He could do this....

James roared and made a renewed attempt to get away when the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled down reached his ears.

~*~

  


"If you untie me now, I'll forget this ever happened, okay?"

That was a lie. James wouldn't forget this in a hurry. He might not ever refer to it, but life would get that little bit more miserable than it already was. Nothing to lose, so might as well make the most of the opportunity....

Right?

 _Right_ , answered his mind, still convinced that this was all a dream. Must be. Had to be. Dreaming.

Jason pressed firmly on James's neck, pulled one asscheek aside, and pushed in.

The cold belt buckle bit into his flesh as he bent over, covered James with the weight of his body, and started to work his cock slowly in and out, not forcing it in all the way, not quite yet. He snaked a hand round to fondle James's cock, grinning as it twitched in his hand.

"Not so bad, huh?"

Vicious curses spilled from James's mouth, words tangling around each other like the snarled mass of hair that now obscured his face. Underneath all the hair, Jason was pretty fucking sure that his teeth were bared, and his face twisted into a feral snarl. The harsh, tense lines of his body told the story, even if he couldn't see the expression: disbelief had turned to rage.

Jason licked his lips, then slipped his hand over James's mouth.

"If you keep making all that noise then someone'll come looking. And you know what? They're not gonna think, 'Jason's gay!'". 

He flexed his hips back, pulling out till only the tip of his cock remained inside James. Then he slammed back in, grunting as James sank his teeth into his fingers. 

"They'll see  _'The Mighty Hetfield'_ , spread out, taking it like a bitch. So, fuck. Go ahead and scream. You already told everyone that I'm gay. They’ll just think you are too."

He removed his hand from James's mouth, then curled back over James; resting his head on James's shoulder, he whispered into his ear: "I ain't got anything to lose. Not any more. You saw to that." 

The hands pressed against his belly tightened, then fell slack.

~*~

  


  
He left him bent over the table, knees sagging and come oozing onto the floor.

"See ya tomorrow, Het."

Jason strolled out of the studio, whistling, feeling happier than he'd felt in months. Years. And tomorrow?

 _Fuck_  tomorrow.

 


End file.
